


Far Gone

by collectingstories



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dwight/Sherry mentioned, F/M, Hill-top, I don't know what to tag this, Kinda, Post-Alexandria Safe Zone, Slow Burn, The Sanctuary, lots of smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 08:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17040308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectingstories/pseuds/collectingstories
Summary: Posted from my Tumblr based on this request: Hi! Can I have a TWD request where everytime Dwight goes to Alexandria with Negan he is always paired up with the reader. At first, he’s kinda rude to her and vice versa. Then, after getting to know each other better, he starts to have feelings for her. He is always excited to see her but the problem is that she is the ‘enemy’. After he helps Rick and the group destroy the saviors, both D and the reader have to figure out a way to be together (they think team family will not accept him).





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The second part of this sort of speeds up the canon and skips over key parts of it in order to tie up the story so I apologize for the non-canon, canon of this story. Otherwise it's my first time writing TWD.

There was a certain way that everything in this post-apocalyptic world could be looked at. It included, of course, the notion that everything belonged to Negan. Everything being Sherry. And Dwight would be the first to admit, albeit privately, that when Sherry first agreed to be Negan’s wife he was heartbroken. She was his first love. Before this, before walkers and Negan and Alexandria she was everything to him. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. And maybe it was his fault for letting that mentality follow him into this new world, maybe he should’ve been thinking about himself instead of always thinking about her. Maybe then he wouldn’t have suffered through an iron to the side of his face while he watched Sherry stand there in her black dress and high heels, knowing that she’d be going back to Negan at the end of the night. 

He knew it wasn’t immediately that things changed, there was still plenty of time wasted pining over someone who was no longer his. And yeah, maybe she had “done this for him” but it didn’t feel like that every time he saw her wandering the halls. The change wasn’t immediate, he knew it couldn’t have been but it felt like it was. As if one minute he was going about his daily routine and the next everything had been turned on its head. He couldn’t remember when Sherry had stopped being the love of his life and you had become more than just one of Rick’s mouthy friends. 

You were there on the train tracks, one of his guys had grabbed the gun out of your hand and twisted your arm so far back he was surprised it didn’t break. You were next to Daryl at the lineup and you’d tried to grab for him when Dwight hauled him back in the van. There was a brief moment, or a series of brief moments, from Denise being shot with an arrow to the Saviors rolling away from the clearing in which Dwight found himself watching you. But t was a series of moments that he wasn’t consciously aware were happening until much later. 

“You’ve got to be joking.” 

The next time he saw you was inside the walls of Alexandria. He was standing in your room, rooting through what scarce belongings you had and pocketing a carabiner full of hair ties when you protested. 

“Half sweetheart.” He replied, shoving a necklace that belonged to the prior owner of the house into his pocket as well. He was still somewhere between caring and not caring about Sherry. 

“Could I at least get a couple?” You asked, holding your hand out as if expecting that he would easily just surrender the hairties. 

“ ‘fraid not. Half is half.” 

“You took the whole carabiner.” It wasn’t important. Hair ties were hair ties and in the grand scheme of things you would be just as fine tying your hair with some twine that you knew Olivia kept on hand. 

“Yeah so? Half your stuff. I’m leaving you this real nice blanket” at that he sat down on the bed as if to signify exactly what he meant, “and in exchange for my gratitude I’m taking the whole ‘carabiner’ of hair ties.” 

“Don’t say carabiner like that. It’s what it’s called.” You snapped. You had little patient for these Saviors and, while Negan gave you pause, Dwight was not as intimidating as he might’ve hoped. 

Dwight got up from your bed and went over to the closet, rifling through clothes that weren’t yours. Negan had told you to show Dwight your house and, while you weren’t inclined to do anything Negan asked the look Rick gave you was enough to make you listen. If this was how Rick wanted to play it than you would do your part. That didn’t stop you from inching toward the door, hoping to catch a glimpse over the banister to the living room where you knew Daryl was being forced to carry out belongings from your house. 

“Hey,” Dwight snapped his fingers and you stopped in the doorway of the house. “Reel it back in.” 

“Aren’t you done yet?” You asked, watching him take a couple shirts from the closet and toss them on the bed. 

“Don’t rush the process. I’ll be done when I say I am.” He replied. 

It was purely luck that you didn’t have to encounter Dwight for at least another week or two. But when you did it was the same as last time. Negan sent him off with you for half of everything. This time half included your mattress. As two of Negan’s men manoeuvre the mattress you watched Dwight, rifling through the same jewellery box he’d taken the necklace from last time. 

The politics of ettiequte required that you not ask strangers invasive questions, that was a given, but that was also a rule of the past. And with dead men walking you really couldn’t be bothered with niceties. 

“What happened?” You chanced asking, tapping the side of your face with your pointer finger to indicate the happening that you were asking about. 

“None of your business.” 

You’d remembered Daryl telling you in the van that his face wasn’t burnt like that the first time he saw the man. You hadn’t really given it much thought then or when he’d invaded your home the first time but now as he pulled a bracelet out of the jewellery box you’d not even spared a glance for you couldn’t help thinking about it. His hair had been tucked behind his ear, giving you a good view of the scarred skin and the minute you asked he brushed his hair back in front of his ear. 

“Whose the bracelet for?” You asked. 

“None of your business.” He repeated himself. 

When Negan drove Carl home you were standing at the gate on watch. After letting them inside you took up your usual routine, following Dwight to your house. As you climbed the stairs after him you took a seat in the dining room chair you’d carried up into your room last week. 

“Don’t you get tired of the same old?” You asked, inspecting a scuff on your boots. The binding that held the sole to the shoe was wearing and if you poked your finger through certain areas you could feel your sock. 

Dwight didn’t answer. He finished in inspecting your room and began to leave, faster than usual. No jewellery box this time, he’d only taken a pack of cigarettes that were sitting on your nightstand. 

“Do you have to take the whole pack?” You asked, watching him stop in the doorway. 

He came back in, fishing the pack out of his pocket. Without a word he handed you one and took one out for himself. His lighter was an old zippo that you assumed he’d stolen from someone because it comically had a tweety-bird etched into it. 

“Thanks.” You said around the cigarette as he lit it. 

“Don’t mention it.” He replied and you took the phrase as what it was, a request rather than a casual way of saying ‘your welcome’. You wouldn’t, of course. Rick would be just as pissed to know you were smoking with the enemy as Negan would be to know Dwight was being soft. If leaving you one last cigarette to smoke was soft. 

“No jewellery today?” You asked, watching him walk to the window and open it a crack. No matter how dangerous the outdoors were being inside made Dwight feel like he was suffocating. 

“Doesn’t matter.” It was hardly a whisper but the room was quiet and you managed to hear him well enough. 

You stood up from the chair and patted the seat, “here.” 

“I’m fine.” Dwight replied. 

“Nah come on, I won’t tell anyone you sat down.” You joked. 

When he did sit down you watched the way he stretched out his legs in front of him, leaning his back against the rails of the chair and tilting his head back. You reasoned that you were only human and it wasn’t like you were out there trying to fuck Jim Jones but you’d be lying if you said Dwight wasn’t attractive. Even more so relaxed. Whoever he stole the jewellery for, you had found yourself wondering about too. Did they know each other before this? You tried to imagine him before this, as you found yourself doing with everyone subconsciously. Tried to imagine him sitting like this in an actual dining room somewhere, maybe waiting on dinner or just relaxing after a long day. 

“Is Daryl okay?” 

Dwight leaned forward to look at you, a certain kind of sadness that you weren’t sure was directly the result of your question. Maybe more so the result of this, sitting here and just letting everything weigh on him. 

“He’s alive.” He replied. 

It wasn’t the answer you wanted but there wasn’t much else you could ask for. All things considered, and knowing Daryl as well as you did, alive was better than you could hope for. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, because honestly he looked like he was doing a lot worse than being alive could remedy. And you couldn’t be sure what pre-apocalypse Dwight was like but he didn’t look half as strong-willed as Daryl. 

He let out a puff of smoke but said nothing. 

You got up from the floor and walked over to the door, closing it and then turning to look back at Dwight. “Won’t leave this room.” You offered. 

Dwight stood up and came to the door, stopping in front of you. When you didn’t move he gripped the doorknob in his hand, cigarette hanging from his lips as he glared at you. “Move.” 

“Move me.” You challenged. You hadn’t strayed far from Rick’s request that you do as the Saviors’ said. But you couldn’t help feeling a little frustrated at the prospects before you. It felt like hardly any time passed and they were back again, digging through what little belongings you had. To say everyone was fed up was an understatement and while you would never do anything to compromise Rick or Daryl’s safety you couldn’t honestly remember a time when you felt less afraid of a person than right now. 

Dwight looked contemplative for a moment, like maybe he really would do something, before he let go of the door handle and dropped back down into the chair. He stubbed out his cigarette on your carpet, pressing the toe of his boot so hard into the ground that dirt flaked off as well. He lit another cigarette, you were taking your time with the one granted to you and couldn’t help feeling a little peeved that he was already on his second. 

“I’ve never been a snitch.” You finally said, “one time in fifth grade I got called to the principal’s office because our teacher found cigarettes in the classroom and the principal wanted to interview us one by one to see whose they were. They were my best friends and I didn’t say a word because I didn’t wanna get them in trouble.” 

“This isn’t fifth grade.” Dwight replied, exhaling a wave of smoke in your direction. 

“I just mean, you can tell me.” 

At the sound of footsteps up the stairs you backed away from the door, stubbing your own cigarette out on the windowsill. Dwight stood but didn’t take the cigarette out of his mouth. One of the female Saviors opened the door, telling him that Negan wanted him. 

Later, after you’d helped bury Spencer’s body, you came back up to your bedroom. You sat down in the chair that Dwight had occupied and stared at the shape of the ashes that his boot had made. You nudged at the mark in your carpet with the toe of you boot, recalling the sad look in his eyes. It was different then usual and it had you thinking about him during the most mundane of activities. Over the next week, as you were tasked with keeping watch, you couldn’t help yourself from wishing that you could see Negan’s procession of vehicles pulling in, if only to see Dwight again. 

While he plagued your mind far more than you plagued his Dwight was left in a rather odd predicament. When Daryl managed to escape and Sherry went missing it was clear to him and Negan who let their prisoner go. So Negan sent Dwight out to find her and in his search he found instead a kind of emptiness in himself. It wasn’t the same emptiness that had allowed him to kill a friend or let someone else take the fall for his missteps. It was the kind of emptiness that replaced the ache he had for Sherry. When he traced steps back to their home and he sat in the kitchen he couldn’t help thinking of sitting there in your room with you. 

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when sneaking jewellery to Sherry had become unimportant but somewhere in going to Alexandria and having you follow him around for hours he’d stopped caring about his ex-wife. Things in this world were different, people especially. For a while he’d been naive enough to think that maybe he wasn’t too different, that maybe some part of him was still there beneath scarred skin and a stolen leather vest. But whatever semblance of Negan and Dwight he’d tried to maintain was gone. Maybe he didn’t want to believe it but Sherry knew it and so did you. Though you were less inclined to hold the differences against him. 

He was more Negan than himself now. Little slivers of him got through but not enough to define him as anything more than another nameless Savior. Not until he sat there in your room with you. In there, listening to the steady sound of your breathing, he felt more himself than he had in a long time. But a different version of himself, a version that could survive in this world. A version that didn’t need Negan. He’d left you another cigarette, tucked into your nightstand drawer that you found two days after he left. You put it in the jewellery box but didn’t smoke it. 

They came rolling back to town in search of Daryl. You were on watch that day and you stood by the fence as men dispersed to each house, tearing them apart in hopes of finding their prisoner. When Negan moved away from the caravan Dwight stepped closer to you, angling himself so he was standing both beside you and in front of you. 

“He’s not here is he?” Dwight asked. He glanced at you, the look somewhat more frantic than you expected from him. 

“I don’t know what your talking about.” You replied. You wanted to say that Daryl wasn’t stupid but honestly, it would be just like your friend to come back to Alexandria while he was still a wanted man. 

A silence pulled over you as you watched them drag furniture out of houses. Your eyes met Rick’s and you offered him the smallest of smiles, a reassurance that he would pull through this. You had never known Rick not to persevere and now was no different. Daryl getting away the small hope you all seemed to need. 

The thought reminded you, “Thanks for the cigarette.” 

Dwight looked over at you, it was odd being out in the open with you. Felt almost like he was revealing some dark secret to the world by standing there close to you. There wasn’t any real reason for him to be where he was. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go and Arat or some other Savior could’ve done the simple job of standing next to you just as well as he was. And yet he couldn’t chance it, he didn’t want to risk leaving your side - it was like he was being pulled there by something. 

“It’s no big deal.” He replied. 

“How does it look?” You asked, eyes straight ahead. 

Just like last time someone called him, though it was Negan now, beckoning his faithful servant over to him. Dwight stepped back a little, slipping something into the pocket of your jeans so discreetly you weren’t even sure it happened and then walked away, off to do whatever it was Negan wanted him to do.


	2. Chapter Two

Dwight has never done anything like this before. He’d run away from the Sanctuary but that was different. That was Sherry’s idea to begin with and he’d been running mostly on adrenaline and fear at that point. This wasn’t running away at all, this was sitting in wait. Playing both sides. Like some spy movie he was feeding information to Alexandria while he sat there and pretended to be loyal to Negan. 

It wasn’t thrilling like the movies so convincingly depicted it to be. Instead it filled him with anxiety. But he was doing this to repay a debt. For Sherry and Daryl, both of whom he’d managed to let down. At least that was what he told himself. 

“Do you know how hard it is to leave Alexandria right now?” Your voice carried across the train tracks and he looked up from his cigarette to see you trying to walk along the rail line, arms out to hold your balance. 

“As hard as it is to leave the Sanctuary I’d imagine.” He replied. 

You stepped down once you right in front of him. He was still wearing Daryl’s vest and you wanted to tease him for it because it looked almost comically on his slight frame. The car he was leaning against was the same one Denise had broken into for that damn soda and thought how odd it was to be standing here with him like this, in this spot, after everything you’d both gone through. 

“How’s it been?” You asked, accepting the cigarette he offered you. 

He was keeping correspondence with Daryl, giving him times when Negan would be around as Alexandria prepared for war. These meetings with you weren’t for that. 

Dwight shrugged a shoulder, “feel like I can’t sleep.” 

You reached your hand up and ran your fingers through his hair, brushing it behind his ear. You thought you’d be hard pressed to find anyone with blond as nice as his, in the sun it looked almost golden. 

“I almost don’t want this all to end.” You admitted. 

The first time you’d come out here had been two days after Negan raided Alexandria for Daryl. You’d come because of a tiny figurine, carved out of wood, that had train tracks 2 days written on it. The item that Dwight had slipped into your back pocket. Neither of you had any contact between Carl’s return and Daryl’s escape but you had both come to the same conclusion on your own. There was something there. It wasn’t there from the beginning, though not much can be said about good first impressions when someone is shoving you into the back of a van. But it was there in your room as he sat with his head back and it was there when he stood next to you during the search. 

You had met in the same place the first time, although then you had been sitting on the hood of a car waiting for him. Part of you had thought about telling Rick when you’d taken the figurine out of your pocket and read the back. But you didn’t think Dwight was trying to ambush you. In fact, you trusted that he wasn’t. So you’d kept the meeting to yourself, even after Daryl told everyone that he and Dwight were corresponding. 

In this new world you didn’t get a lot of opportunities to act on impulse. It was important that everything be thought out and mulled over so as not to make any missteps. You were not a stranger to the turmoil missteps caused. But that being said, impulse was what you liked to believed had caused you, on that first meeting, to slide off the hood of an old sedan and kiss Dwight. If it was impulsive than it must’ve been on both sides because he kissed you back just the same. 

“Sneaking out your thing?” Dwight asked, pulling your attention back to him and making you laugh. It was a laugh despite your own anxiety. 

Daryl had told you yesterday that when this was all over he was going to kill Dwight. You would’ve liked, however futilely, to have pointed out that he was helping. There would be no chance of a war at all if Dwight had offered up information at the cost of his own safety. Instead you had said nothing to Daryl’s remark, just scuffed your feet further into the dirt beneath the picnic table. 

“I just...” 

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll figure it out.” Except he didn’t believe himself saying it. He was sure there would be no hero’s welcome for him in Alexandria, if he was lucky he’d be thrown in a jail cell just like Daryl was. They could torture him with god-awful music and dog food sandwiches. But he knew that would be too good of a reward for his help. He was wholeheartedly expecting an arrow through the eye, the same way he’d done Denise. 

Dwight pulled you into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and placing one of his arms around your shoulders, bringing you as close as possible so he could place a kiss on your temple. You gripped his shirt in the back, hands slipping beneath Daryl’s vest. 

Things dissolved from there. First the attack on Alexandria, which had found you shoved behind a car by Dwight, who told you not to move, and then the retaliation on the Sanctuary. You were hesitant to go with Rick, nervous not because of the fight but because you didn’t want to see something bad happen to Dwight. In the choice between knowing and not knowing you had survived long enough to realise that not knowing was a blessing. 

“Figured I should talk to you,” Rick said, taking a seat on the porch beside you and placing a hand over your knee. He rocked your leg a little, as if trying to calm you. 

“I know what I’m supposed to do, already went over it with Aaron.” You replied. 

“Not about that.” He squeezed your leg gently and then took his hand away, “these people are...” 

You looked over at him, unable to help the startled look on your face. 

“I saw you leave the other day. Found the carvings in your room. Daryl said they were Dwight’s.” 

“Daryl knows?” You asked, “for how long?” 

“Just a few days...didn’t know what I wanted to say to you. Wasn’t sure how I felt about it.” He replied. 

“It’s not different than Merle coming back.” You said. “Or letting Tara join us or the fucking welcome home party you’ll end up doling out for Eugene.” 

“No ones welcoming Eugene back.” Rick replied. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” You admitted. And then the whole truth because you rarely said it but you knew it was what needed to be heard in that moment. “I would do anything for this family, for you and Daryl especially. Rick, without a doubt I trust you with my life and I have since the beginning...but I need you to trust me too.” 

The first time you’d thought about it, after you met up with Dwight on the train tracks and you’d kissed him, you resigned yourself to letting things play out however they might. If Rick wanted him dead then there would be no argument. But as meetings continued and after Daryl swore to kill him you realized that you might have to choose. And even than you leaned toward Rick and the group. They had been your family since Atlanta and you’d be stupid to choose someone you barely knew, someone who’d helped put the group through hell, over any of them. If you were being honest with yourself even people in Alexandria felt expendable to you if it meant keeping your people alive. 

Olivia and Spencer shouldn’t have died but better them then Carl or Rick or Michonne. Better Dwight than Daryl you had been telling yourself, so why were you having such a hard time saying that to Rick? 

“I do trust you. It’s Dwight that I don’t trust.” 

“He hasn’t lied to us.” 

“It’s too soon to tell.” 

“The goal hasn’t changed Rick, I want Negan dead as much as you do. If I have to choose...I’m not gonna wander off into the woods after Dwight and abandon everyone.” 

“Prove it to me.” He squeezed your knee once more before standing up and heading to the gate. 

You wanted to avoid Daryl, not wanting to rehash the conversation but the reality of what was about to happen had you giving him a hug anyway. He was already sitting on his bike, ready to go, and you awkwardly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, putting your mouth close to his ear, “be safe.” 

“You too.” He patter your back and you stepped away. “Meant what I said before though.” 

“I know. Doesn’t change anything, Daryl. I wanna see you alive at the end of this. So be safe.” You said. It was just like him to be an asshole when you were trying to be nice. 

The most you saw of Dwight was from a distance as you and the rest of your group fired on the Sanctuary. There was a second, before guns went off, that you had met his eyes. A silent understanding passed between the two of you. What was about to happen had to be done and neither of you could change that. You wanted to think that he would rather be fighting on Rick’s side or not at all but you couldn’t honestly be sure. And there wasn’t much time to consider it because the second the guns went off all you thought about was killing Negan and any of his Saviors that got in the way of that. 

Things lulled, if you could call it that, after the initial attack. Not a lull that caused a cease in action but more a lull that was constant action. But maybe that wasn’t the worst thing and it certainly wasn’t something you were a stranger too. The constant action brought you to hilltop to assist Maggie and it brought Dwight there too, joining the militia for good. Rick and Daryl knew about your meetings, to an extent, but that didn’t mean everyone did. 

“Hey D,” you whispered, slipping into the trailer that Jesus had allotted him. Further away from everyone else’s. Tara would eventually notice you sneaking out in the evenings but until then you’d take your chances. 

Dwight was sitting on the futon that he’d turned down into a bed. He had taken some wood from Jesus and was carving out the beginnings of a figurine. You had always seen them finished, sometimes unpainted but always finished. You closed the door behind you, sending the room back into darkness save for the candlelight by Dwight’s bed. He sat up a little more and moved over, giving you room to sit on the futon beside him. 

“Hey,” he pulled you in close to him and kissed the side of your head, “can’t sleep?” 

“Just wanted to see you.” You admitted. Having him here in Hilltop felt weird, you couldn’t deny that. It was the same feeling you had in Alexandria when he’d roll in with Negan, that excited feeling in the pit of your stomach that grew at the sight of him but weighed down on you because you knew that there was no way you could spend real time with him. It wasn’t like you could just kiss him or hug him with everyone around, something you didn’t know you could want so much in this newer world. 

“You saw me earlier, gave me those delicious parsnips for dinner.” He teased. 

Jesus had given you the task of giving Dwight his dinner as he still wasn’t fully welcomed in Hilltop. Understandable, even to you, though you wished things could be different. If only to help your current feelings not threaten to swallow you whole. 

“I know...but not really.” You shrugged. You slipped your shoes off and shifted yourself more onto the futon, taking some of his blanket to warm yourself and brushing your leg against his. 

There was more weighing on your mind and Dwight could see that in the way you fidgeted. He thought about not saying anything because he had a feeling he knew what it was that was bothering you and he also knew there was little he could offer in the way of reassurance. But he hated the anxious look that crossed over your face as you looked at him. 

“Hey,” Dwight tried to smile as prodded your side with his fingertips. You laughed out of habit, cursed with being ticklish, and snuggled closer to him. His hand left your side and ran up to pull the hair back from your face, “hey, we don’t have to worry about it tonight.” 

“I don’t wanna think about it.” You replied honestly, looking up at him. Tomorrow, Daryl had told you, he would talk to Dwight. Though he didn’t say it outright you knew what that meant. Rick had passed the decision to Daryl and if he decided it then Dwight might be killed. It was something that had been nagging at the back of your mind but you’d kept yourself busy in hilltop, working during the day and sneaking out to Dwight’s trailer at night. And then yesterday the familiar sound of Daryl’s motorcycle had reminded you that there was a decision to be made regarding Dwight’s fate. 

You hadn’t pleaded his case because you knew it was pointless. Daryl wouldn’t spare him on your word alone. Despite Dwight’s importance to you, there was still part of you that felt like it wasn’t your place to intervene. Who were you to tell Daryl he couldn’t kill someone? There were plenty of times when he hadn’t questioned your decisions. It was a complicated place to be in but you’d been treading this water since Negan brought Carl home from the Sanctuary. 

“Don’t. We’ve got till morning, at least.” 

“I don’t want anything to happen to you D.” You laid your hand against his scarred cheek and he leaned into your touch just a bit. He’d told you once when you asked that it felt almost ticklish when you’d kiss the skin there. Once he’d even visibly shuddered at the sensation and you’d laughed in response. This time you settled for simply running your thumb across his cheek and kissing him. 

Dwight left the wood carving and tools beside him on the futon so that he could hold your waist as he kissed you back. When he pulled away, he kissed your forehead again, “no matter what, you’ll be okay.” 

You let him guide you back to lay down. It was still early enough in the night that there were hours left before the sun rose though you doubted that either of you would get any sleep. The feeling of his fingers grazing up and down your arm and his other hand pressed against your lower stomach was enough to calm you but not enough to lull you to sleep. If this was the last time you saw him you didn’t want to miss a second of it. 

In the morning Daryl would be waiting outside Dwight’s trailer to talk to him. You would sat in the trailer for the entirety of the talk, sitting at the small table and smoking cigarette out of nervousness as Dwight swore that he was sorry, that things would be different and that he never meant what happened. That he was different now. And you couldn’t help thinking that, although you hadn’t known him as long as Daryl nor had you known him before the world imploded you knew him now and now he was better than most.


End file.
